Raka had no business being there. He had known that from the moment he took his first step out of the palace's main corridor. The anonymous letter he'd found on his pillow still felt heavy in his coat pocket, as if that thin sheet of paper carried a burden far greater than its size. I know who you really are. Meet me in the back garden at midnight. The words had been circling through his mind the entire walk to the rear garden. He had even stopped twice and considered returning to his room. If the letter was a trap, he was willingly walking straight into it. If the sender was one of Rovan's followers, tonight might be the end of both his lives. But if he didn't go, the only person who might know the answer to his existence would simply disappear. In the end, Raka kept walking. His curiosity, it seemed, was stronger than his fear.
The palace's back garden was far darker than the rest of the royal compound. Few torches had been placed there. Only moonlight fell between the leaves, casting long shadows across the stone path. Ancient trees stood close together along the path, some with trunks so massive that it would take several people to encircle them. A round pond lay at the center of the garden, its surface still, while night-blooming flowers released a faint fragrance carried on the wind. Raka stopped a few paces from the pond. There was no one there. He looked right and left, trying to catch the slightest sound. Nothing. Only crickets and rustling leaves. “I'm here,” he finally called. His voice sounded too loud in the silence. There was no answer. Raka waited. Several seconds passed. Then a woman's voice came from behind the trees.
“You really came.”
Raka spun around.
A young woman stepped out from the shadows of a tree. A thin, dark-colored veil covered her face, making most of her features difficult to recognize. She wore simple clothes, nothing like the gowns worn by noblewomen, but her way of walking and her posture showed that she was accustomed to palace life. Raka didn't move at once. His hand slowly curled into a fist, preparing for the worst. The woman stopped a few paces away and stared at him in silence. There was something in her gaze that made Raka feel as though she were comparing him to someone she knew. She wasn't merely looking at him. She wasn't merely confirming his identity. It was as if she were searching his face for something that had gone missing.
“You don't remember me,” she said.
Raka frowned.
“Should I?”
The woman gave a faint smile, but there was no joy in it. “No. It's only natural that you wouldn't remember.”
“Who are you?”
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she stepped closer and lifted her veil slightly. Her face was clear now. She was still young, perhaps around twenty-five. Long black hair fell past her shoulders, and her eyes were dark brown. Tension showed in her face, but there was also something that kept Raka from feeling as though he were facing an enemy.
“My name is Lira.”
The name sounded unfamiliar.
Yet Raka's body suddenly reacted.
His chest tightened.
An image appeared in his mind.
A much younger man sat in this same garden. A little girl stood before him, carrying a tray. The man laughed. The girl smiled.
Then the image vanished.
Raka clutched his head.
“You saw it again?”
Raka raised his face.
“Saw what?”
“Ashwin's memory.”
Raka's heart began beating faster.
“You know?”
Lira nodded.
“I know more than I should.”
Raka gave her a sharp look.
“Explain.”
Lira drew a deep breath.
“I was Ashwin's personal maid.”
Raka fell silent.
“The real King Ashwin.”
Those last words stirred something strange inside Raka.
“So you knew him?”
“Since I was little.”
“What was he like?”
Lira looked toward the pond.
“He was different from what people thought.”
Raka stepped a little closer.
“How?”
“In front of the nobles, he was cold. In front of the generals, he was stern. In front of the people, he was the king who always had to look perfect.” Lira paused. “But in places like this, he was just a man who often sat alone and wondered whether every decision he'd made was the right one.”
Raka lowered his head.
Something in those words made his chest feel heavy.
“Then what happened to him?”
Lira looked at him.
“His soul is not gone.”
Raka froze.
“What?”
“Ashwin's soul is still here.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how can you be sure?”
“Because when you first woke up, I felt the difference.”
Raka frowned.
“The difference?”
“You moved like someone seeing this body for the first time. You looked at the servants in confusion. You didn't recognize some places you should have known extremely well. And most importantly...” Lira looked into Raka's eyes. “You called Elandor differently.”
Raka fell silent.
“How?”
“Ashwin always called him by his full name when he was angry.”
Raka almost smiled.
“And me?”
“You simply said Elandor.”
“So that was enough for you to know?”
“No.”
Lira stepped closer.
“What convinced me were your eyes.”
Raka said nothing.
“Your gaze doesn't belong to Ashwin.”
The night wind moved through the trees.
Raka stared at the woman before him, his emotions in turmoil.
“If you know I'm not Ashwin,” he said slowly, “why didn't you scream? Why didn't you call the guards?”
“Because I'm not angry.”
“Why?”
Lira lowered her head.
“Because I know you didn't choose this.”
Raka fell silent.
That simple sentence felt more comforting than anything since he had arrived in this world.
Everyone saw him as a threat.
Elandor saw him as a Witness.
Rovan probably saw him as an enemy.
But Lira was the first person to say that none of this was his fault.
“I don't know what I'm supposed to do,” Raka finally said. “I don't even know if I'll still be here tomorrow.”
Lira looked at him.
“Then make the most of your time.”
Raka frowned.
“As if I have a choice.”
“You do.”
“What choice?”
“You can choose to become like Ashwin.”
Raka stared at her for a long moment.
“I'm not him.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you asking me to become like him?”
“I didn't ask you to become like him.”
Lira stepped closer.
“I'm asking you to become better than him.”
Raka fell silent.
Before he could answer, the sound of footsteps came from the distance.
Lira turned at once.
“Someone's coming.”
Raka instinctively looked toward the path.
“The guards?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because guards don't walk like that.”
The footsteps drew closer.
Tension began spreading through Raka's body.
Lira grabbed his arm.
“Quick. We have to go.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere out of sight.”
They moved toward the darker part of the garden. Lira parted a thick hedge and revealed a small stone door almost completely covered by vines.
Raka stared at it.
“A secret passage?”
“There are always secret passages in a palace.”
“Why didn't I know about it?”
Lira gave him a faint smile.
“Because you're not Ashwin.”
Before Raka could reply, a shout came from the direction of the gate.
“ATTACK!”
Raka froze.
So did Lira.
An alarm immediately echoed throughout the palace.
One bell.
Two bells.
Then the sound of a war horn.
“No...” Lira whispered.
“What?”
“This is too soon.”
Raka looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Rovan.”
The sound of footsteps and soldiers' shouts began rising in the distance. Torchlight appeared beyond the walls. The palace, so peaceful only seconds earlier, suddenly transformed into a sea of chaos.
Raka looked at Lira.
“He's attacking tonight?”
Lira nodded.
“He shouldn't be.”
“Why not?”
“Because Rovan shouldn't be ready yet.”
An explosion rang out.
The ground beneath their feet shook.
Raka nearly lost his balance.
Lira pulled him back.
“We have to find Elandor.”
“Why?”
“Because if Rovan is attacking now, it means he already knows something.”
“What?”
Lira looked at him.
“That you're here.”
They ran toward the secret door.
But before they could open it, another voice came from behind them.
“Your Majesty.”
Raka stopped.
He recognized that voice.
The guard who had been standing outside his room earlier.
Raka slowly turned.
A man stood among the trees, a sword drawn in his hand.
Moonlight illuminated his face.
Lira immediately pulled Raka back.
“He's not an ordinary guard.”
The man smiled.
“Prince Rovan has a message for you.”
Raka stared at him.
“What is it?”
The man raised his sword.
“The throne no longer needs a false king.”
Lira moved quickly, drawing a short sword from beneath her clothes.
“Run!”
She lunged at the man.
The fight erupted in the middle of the garden.
Raka backed away several steps, unsure what to do. He wasn't a soldier. He didn't know how to use a sword. But when he saw Lira fighting, something surfaced in his mind again.
Ashwin.
A man who had once wielded a sword.
The movements.
The footwork.
The way to dodge.
Raka felt his body move on its own.
He picked up the short sword that had fallen to the ground.
The guard turned toward him.
“So you're starting to remember.”
Raka froze.
“What?”
“That body.”
The man smiled.
“You think you're the only one who can call back its memories?”
Lira attacked again.
The man parried.
Raka tightened his grip on the sword.
He didn't know who the man was.
But he knew one thing.
His enemy knew about the soul exchange.
And perhaps more than Elandor did.
Suddenly, the alarm grew even louder.
From the direction of the main gate, soldiers' cries echoed.
“THE SOUTH GATE HAS BEEN BREACHED!”
Lira looked at Raka.
“It has begun.”
The guard slowly backed away.
“No,” he said.
“This is only the beginning.”
He leaped behind the trees and vanished into the darkness.
Raka was about to chase after him, but Lira caught his arm.
“Don't!”
“We have to capture him!”
“If you chase him now, you'll die.”
Raka looked at the palace beginning to burn in the distance.
“Then what are we supposed to do?”
Lira pointed to the secret stone door.
“Find Elandor.”
Raka nodded.
They opened the door.
But before entering, Raka glanced once more toward the sky.
In the distance, beyond the southern mountains, a faint blue light appeared again.
And within that light, for a moment, Raka saw the shape of a black tower.
The tower that had appeared in his memories.
The tower that should have been impossible to see from here.
The split-sun symbol appeared on the surface of the stone before him.
Then a whisper sounded.
“Witness.”
Raka froze.
Lira looked at him.
“What happened?”
Raka didn't answer.
Because as he stared at the symbol, a sentence appeared in his mind.
Not Elandor's voice.
Not Lira's voice.
Not the voice of anyone he knew.
“Don't let the Mirror Tower find you.”
Raka stared into the darkness before him.
For the first time, he realized that he might not be the only one searching for answers.
Someone—or something—was searching for him too.
And tonight, that search had turned into war.